


boundless singularity

by dollseyes



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23005477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollseyes/pseuds/dollseyes
Summary: A calm morning because they deserve it.
Relationships: Samantha Barnes/Mark Bryant
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	boundless singularity

Sam wakes to the light streaming through the cracked curtains to the strange sensation of a weightless chest. There is no 9 pound ball of fur pricking at her shirt. She props herself up on her elbows and reaches out to pull the curtains open more.

The light reveals the empty cabin of the van. The divet in the mattress beside her is cold to the touch. She doesn’t let it worry her though. Because he would wake her if he needed her. She knows that much at least. 

Slowly, she works each limb, each digit back to life. The air of the van is chill on her toes as she stretches them out into the open air. She kneads her fingers lightly into her shoulder, massaging the sore muscles there. A sure answer to the question from the day before as to whether or not she had overpacked for their hike. But the forecast had called for rain. So she had brought her jacket and boots and a spare set of socks and had remained dry. Until Mark, who had foolishly chosen to ignore the forecast that he insisted on looking up every morning, decided to use her as his personal towel, brushing up against her like a needy wet dog. 

Her lips quirk at the thought of him, soaked through with a golden retriever smile on his face.

When she finally manages to extract herself fully from the covers, she finds the air a tad on the chill side, so she wraps the blanket around her shoulders and slides open the door. Mark is nowhere to be seen, but since Darwin is also gone, there is only one place they could be.

She swings herself onto the ladder, careful not to touch the ground that is still saturated from the rain that hadn’t let up until late into the night.

Mark doesn’t seem to notice her, too wrapped up in the book in front of him and facing the other way, towards the expanse of mountains that trail off into the horizon. Darwin lays in the circle his arms create with the book. Even her cat is too content to acknowledge her presence.

So Sam lays down on top of Mark, stacking their bodies and pressing her face into his neck.

Mark had confessed to her that having her weight on his was one of the most comforting things. The knowledge that she was there, and real and with him a balm on the years he had spent unreachable and untouched.

He’s wearing the shirt he wore when they cleaned the interior of the van the other day, so he smells like a heady mix of pine sol and whatever off brand deodorant he picked up last. It mingles with the petrichor in the crisp morning breeze. 

“Good morning,” she murmurs.

His response is a hum as he turns the page.

“‘Life takes on a neat simplicity, too. Time ceases to have any meaning. When it is dark, you go to bed, and when it is light again you get up, and everything in between is just in between. It’s quite wonderful, really.’”

Sam reads these words aloud, mostly to herself but she can feel the skin of Mark’s face shift into a smile when she does.

“I thought you already read this one.”

He places his bookmark in it, a scrap of fabric from some project or another that had been abandoned in their building phase.

“I have.”

She doesn’t ask him why he’s reading it again and he doesn’t expand upon it. All she does is softly ask him to read out loud to her for a bit.

“‘You have no engagements, commitments, obligations, or duties; no special ambitions and only the smallest, least complicated of wants; you exist in a tranquil tedium, serenely beyond the reach of exasperation, “far removed from the seats of strife,” as the early explorer and botanist William Bartram put it. All that is required of you is a willingness to trudge.’”

She smiles and puts her face back into his neck as he continues, her nose tingling with the vibrations from his throat as he continues.

“‘There is no point in hurrying because you are not actually going anywhere. However far or long you plod, you are always in the same place: in the woods. It’s where you were yesterday, where you will be tomorrow. The woods is one boundless singularity.’”

It is Sam’s turn to hum.

“I like that.”

Mark closes the book and turns his head.

“Yeah, me too.”

“But if you decide to hike the whole Appalachian trail, you have to find someone else to go with you.”

Mark’s laugh shakes her body.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be sure to take Green along with me. The man looks like he’s never seen fresh air.”

Sam laughs. “Owen is a lot more in shape that you would think.”

Mark rolls over completely, so that Sam falls off his back and onto the roof.

“Oh not you too. First Joanie, now this?”

Sam laughs.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. He’s not really my type.”

Mark props himself up on his elbow so that he is laying on his side, barely leaning over her.

“What is your type?”

His smirk is cocky and confident and calm and Sam bites her lip as she stares up at him.

“My type is a goofy idiot who insists on looking at the forcast, but refuses to listen when it calls for rain. My type is a man that can’t judge how far away a landmark is to save his life. My type wakes up to read in the light of the rising sun. My type has eyes that sparkle with glee when he figures out how to successfully hook up solar panels to a battery. My type is a hopeless romantic who tries to cook a three course meal on a campfire, but burns it all to chars. My type makes me feel at home when I’m sad and when I’m happy.”

Mark’s face is soft as he stares at her, looking at her like he doesn’t understand why she’s there, she who hung the stars.

“My type always gets the hint when I want to be kissed,” she adds.

He chuckles and leans down, brushing his lips against hers. His hair has grown out again and it tickles her forehead and cheeks and when he pulls away, she raises her hand to push it out of his face before he gets the chance, taking the opportunity to cup it.

They watch each other, soaking it all in. Sam doesn’t think she could ever get tired of this, of seeing him, of feeling him beneath her fingers, of the scent of pine sol and petrichor and  _ Mark. _

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you might be my boundless singularity.”

**Author's Note:**

> The book Mark is reading is A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson


End file.
